The Swords-Woman
by I LUV 2 PROCRASTINATE
Summary: Merlin, Arthur and the knights are on a hunting trip when bandits appear, but not just any bandits; slave traders! They meet new enemies and friends, but is their new ally all she seems? Distrust aside, Akila is the only thing that might save them all from certain death. Multiple POVs, slight Arwen and Gwaine/OC. Rated for mentions of rape/torture.
1. Usual Morning, Unusual Night

**AN: Hey everybody, my first Merlin story! Yay! Hope you enjoy it, leave reviews and follow or fav, there's more to come! If you want me to continue, let me know through a review, I can't get enough of them!**

 **Thanks!**

 **~ 'Crastinate**

 **P.S: I don't own Merlin**

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 **Merlin's POV**

Merlin ducked as a stray goblet chased him from the King's bed chambers. Arthur continued to shout insults at his retreating manservant's back as said manservant howled with laughter. Merlin skidded around the corner as he wiped tears of mirth from eyes deep blue eyes, earning him looks of disapproval from an elderly servant. Merlin had once again made a rather cheeky jibe at his master's weight, and Arthur had not taken it lightly. Merlin made a mental note to avoid him for a few hours, so not to provoke the steaming royal further.

Unfortunately, Arthur found Merlin in the mucking out the stables less then an hour after the incident earlier that morning. The blond's light blue eyes sparkled with mischievous revenge as he approached the unsuspecting boy's back.

"Merlin," he began loudly. The raven haired warlock jumped in surprise. "I have decided to go on a hunt on this fine summer afternoon." Arthur continued. Merlin let out a small groan of protest. "Now?" Arthur smirked. "Yes now, Merlin. The knights have already assembled outside in the courtyard. Go fetch the provisions. Chop chop!"

When Merlin returned a few minutes later, he found Arthur, Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, and Leon waiting impatiently in the courtyard atop their high horses. Literally. Merlin grumbled as he hoisted himself on his chestnut mare and the group set off towards the forest.

After hours of Merlin deliberately tripping over Arthur whenever he readies his crossbow, followed by severe telling offs and bantering, Arthur announced it was getting late and they should set up camp for the night.

As the group gathers around the warm fire, Gwaine starts to tell one of his famous tavern stories. Merlin absentmindedly listened, laughing whenever the others laughed, focusing on the dark forest around their protective circle of firelight. It was quiet. Too quiet. His blue eyes flickered nervously between the trees, the obscure shadows yielding no light or sound. No birds sang their evening songs, no leaves crackled under the odd animal's feet. Nothing. Merlin's felt it in the air: a brooding silence. Something was going to happen tonight. Something big.

A loud shout of amusement echoed around the clearing. Merlin jumped and spun around to face a chortling Gwaine. "And I said: 'You're in no fit state to even hold of a sword much less use one!' And he said: 'I don't need a sword to kill you!' Then he charged, in the wrong direction!" He snickered. The rest of the knights laughed alongside him. Merlin let out a weak smile, which was immediately noticed by Gwaine. "Merlin, mate. You alright?" Merlin forced his eyes away from the tree he had been staring at. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Arthur stood abruptly. "I think it's time we all got some sleep. I refuse to go back to Camelot without a prize for Guinevere." He stared pointedly at Merlin, who let out a huge fake yawn. "I agree. Time for bed!" he said with false cheer.

That night, Merlin struggled to stay awake. He tried to force his eyes open, but the overwhelming desire for sleep settled over him like a magic spell. As his eyes drooped closed, a pair of unfamiliar shoes strode into the clearing, and finally a whispered incantation of heavy slumber forced Merlin's eyes shut and he sank into a deep unrelenting sleep.

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 **AN: Thanks for reading! Review, please!**


	2. Falgrid

**AN: Hey guys, I decided to post another chapter, twice in one day! Yippee! I hope you like it! Please review. Once again, I don't own Merlin, though I wish I did!**

 **~ 'Crastinate**

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 **Arthur's POV**

When Arthur awoke, the first thing he noticed was his hands and feet were bound by a thick rope. He was on some sort of sled, gliding over the forest floor. His eyes wandered to the body next to him. A familiar head of raven hair greeted him. He looked to his other side and recognised Gwaine's long brown locks. He glanced around again and noticed that the rest of his knights were also bound similarly to Arthur and they all lay in the second sled that was being pulled next to his. A low grunt escaped the drunk's lips. His eyes fluttered open a fraction. Similar noises echoed around him as the rest of his friends awoke too.

Suddenly the sled shuddered to a halt. Arthur felt the drivers dismount off their horses and walk around the sled towards their prisoners. Prisoners. Arthur silently chided himself on his stupidity. The King of Camelot does not become a victim to a simple sleeping spell!

Heavy footsteps brought Arthur back to Earth. A man strode into view. He had short black hair and similarly coloured eyes that glittered under his low fringe. His clothes were dirty and matted with what suspiciously looked like dried blood. His skin was a pale colour, like sour milk. His body was covered in various scars, the most noticeable was the long thin line that stretched from his left eyebrow to his cheekbone. A cruel smile tugged at his lips. He wore a strange amulet around his neck, it was a circular thing with an ominous amber stone set in the centre of it. The stone glowed a sickly orange colour. Arthur tore his eyes away from the glowing pendant and forced himself to look his captor in the eyes.

He crouched down in front of Arthur, mottled yellow and black teeth gleamed from under his cracked lips. By now the rest of the knights were fully awake and watched in a grim silence. The man studied Arthur carefully, his black eyes betrayed nothing. "Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot. A real honour _my lord_." The last two words were spoken with such sarcasm that it rivalled Merlin. He gave a little mock bow. "I honestly thought you would be harder to catch! But honesty isn't something I excel at." the man said, flashing his disgusting teeth once more. Arthur glared at him. "Oh you must think me rude. My name is Falgrid and this idiot," he jabbed a finger at his companion that was driving the other sled "is Descar." Descar was obviously Falgrid's brother. He had the same eyes and hair, only that Descar looked less battle-worn than his brother. "As you might have guessed, you and your little friends are now my personal playthings." Falgrid let out a little chuckle. "Now you're awake, you walk." He stood up and motioned for Descar to come forward, who tied a blindfold around each of the prisoners eyes then tied a rope connecting them to the horses. He packed away the sled clumsily. Arthur heard the sleds topple to the ground before being scooped up again. The horses lurched forward without warning and Arthur stumbled a bit as the horses began to move at a brisk trot.

After hours of walking and tripping over stray logs, the group slowed to a halt. Sounds of clanging, grunting men and a few screams of pain and the terrifying crack of a whip reached Arthur's ears, his mind whirring with possibilities. He felt his feet leave forest floor and step onto hard stone. He heard the unmistakeable sound of a heavy metal gate being closed and he felt a rough hand tear away the blindfold. Arthur blinked at the harsh light that so rudely assaulted his eyes. When his eyes adjusted, when he saw shocked him to the bone.

Men were scattered around a ruined courtyard, heaving great stones into the shape of a giant wall. The men were beaten and bruised, scars clearly left by whips were on every back. The men where more bones and skin then actual people. There where men of all ages, from as young as ten, to as old as sixty. There were several jailers that help whips, shouting orders to the poor slaves to work faster, harder, better. Each and every face of the prisoners showed pure hopelessness and pain, features where hardened by suffering and fear, but the faces of the jailer were a sharp contrast to those around them. They had a cruel glee in their eyes, compassion and kindness was foreign to them.

Was this the fate of Arthur and his men?

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 **AN: Review please!**


	3. Boysenberry Eyes

**AN: Hey guys, got another chapter for ya! Hope you like it, please review! OC is introduced in this chapter. I don't own Merlin, but it's only a matter of time! : )**

 **~ 'Crastinate**

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 **Gwaine's POV**

As Falgrid strode into the ruined square, silence fell immediately. The workers watched to six prisoners with sad expressions, six new lives condemned to their cruel hell. The jailers leered as they walked past, no doubt thinking of torturous pains they would soon be able to inflict of the famous King and knights of Camelot, thought Gwaine.

Falgrid stopped at the threshold of a once beautiful castle, now in shambles like the courtyard around it. "Behold," he said. "The the mighty King of Camelot," he pushed Arthur to his knees. Gwaine didn't usually feel sorry for the Princess, but when he saw the humiliation in his light blue eyes, he felt his heart twang in sympathy. "and his precious Knights of the Round Table." Falgrid promptly kicked the nearest knight in the chest, which happened to be Gwaine. He felt a rib crack. He lay gasping on the floor as Falgrid's men jeered and laughed at his pain. Percival roared in anger and strained against his bonds to reach him.

"Get up!" Descar roughly yanked Gwaine up to his feet. Then Falgrid led the procession into the building, where guards grabbed them and led them to the dungeons. The place in question was dank and mouldy, everything was awash in darkness, except the few places where torches shone in the corridor. Even light was caged in this dank and dismal hell. The cells were tiny, no more than three meters long and two meters wide, but some cells had as many as six bedrolls in them. Most cells were empty, Gwaine guessed because they were all out in the square. The only occupied cells in the dungeons had only women in them. These women may not be doing manual labour, but they certainly looked no better off than the men. Some of these women had bulging stomachs, and Gwaine's heart clenched as he saw one girl, no older than twelve cradling her swollen stomach as she cried.

The guards let the knights to one of the empty cells and shoved Leon, Percival and Elyan into the musty, dirty room. Then the guards led Arthur, Merlin and Gwaine to the one next to the cell the other knights were in, but this cell was already occupied by a woman.

This girl was obviously different from the other women, she was less beaten and bloodied, and she wore a loose white tunic and brown breeches, the clothes of a man. Her long black hair was less dirty then her fellow prisoners, but her eyes where no less haunted. She watched her new cellmates with a quiet curiosity.

Merlin barley glanced at her crouched form in the corner before turning to Gwaine. "All right," he began. "He hurt your rib, sit down. No use aggravating it further." Gwaine rolled his eyes but obliged, grunting as he did. Merlin gently ran his hand over the damage, the slight contact making Gwaine wince. Merlin sighed. "Nothing I can do, try not to jostle it further." Arthur scoffed, his eyes still on the door. "I'm afraid that will be a problem, considering what we saw outside." Gwaine let his head rest on the wall in defeat. The girl still said nothing.

"How are we gonna get out of here." mumbled Gwaine. "You can't." said a feminine voice. All three heads whipped around to face their silent cellmate. "You can't." she repeated. "What do you mean 'we can't'?" growled Arthur. The girl blinked. "I have tried every possible way of escape." she said mournfully. "I have been in this God-forsaken place for eight years." Gwaine heard Merlin give a faint gasp. "You would think I'd have found a way to escape, huh?" The girl stared at them, her eyes resting for a few seconds on each of their faces. Gwaine noticed that what he thought was black eyes were actually a deep purple. Purple like the most tastiest wine, rich and flavourful. Trust Gwaine to think of alcohol at a time like this.

The girl let out a pitiful sigh. "You have no idea what it is like to be a slave of Falgrid, and I am so sorry that you will." Merlin sat down cross-legged on the floor. Arthur remained standing by the door. The girl tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Gwaine eyed the uneven and choppy hair, tiny random braids braided with thin pieces of fabric. It was wild and unkept, but had a certain beauty about it. "They say you are the King of Camelot." said the girl, her unusual purple eyes flickering to Arthur and Gwaine's armour. "Yes." confirmed Arthur. "They won't let you keep it." she said, turning her head. "Keep what?" asked Merlin, cocking his head to the side like a child. "You armour." she still didn't turn her head.

Just as she spoke, the four of them heard a key rattle in the keyhole. The door swung open, revealing Descar and three armed guards. "Armour, now." He threw two sets of clothes on the dusty floor. Gwaine shot a look at the girl, but she had politely adverted her eyes, almost as if she had done this before. After getting changed into the mouldy, ragged clothing, Descar sneered at the girl in the corner. "How lucky you are, Akila, you get to share a cell with royalty!" He and the guards guffawed at the not at all funny joke and left, locking the door behind them.

"Is your name Akila?" asked Gwaine, his voice unusually gentle. She nodded. "I'm Gwaine, and this is King Arthur and his manservant Merlin." Akila blinked her beautiful eyes again. "A pleasure to meet you." she said with as much kindness as she could muster in the dark and gloomy cell. "What kind of things do they need us for?" asked Arthur, finally sitting down. Akila smiled thinly, a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes.

"Men have it easy." she began. "Every day they go out into the courtyard and build a wall of stone. Then, once they have reached the acceptable height, they have to take it down. If they haven't finished by sundown, they are punished. Every day, it's the same routine." Gwaine could already feel his ribs aching at the thought of carrying those heavy blocks of stone. "And the women?" What could possibly be worse? But Gwaine had a idea of what was to come. "The women are objects. Every meal time, they are forced to dance and sing without clothes for our masters. Then they are chosen 'for pleasure'." Akila spat the last two words with such venom that Gwaine had a strong urge to back away. "What about you?" asked Merlin, who had paled even more than usual. "My role is no less damaging. Just because I am the only woman to share a cell with men does not mean it is easier for me." Akila let out a breath. "Get some sleep, tomorrow, your work will start." and without another word, she curled in on herself and huddled in the corner, pale moonlight weaving in her hair. Gwaine sighed and followed suit.

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 **AN: Please review!**


	4. Slaves

**AN: Hey guys! It's me again. I've decided to post another chapter for a reviewer. Just to let you know that the chapters are going to come a little slower, I haven't been spending as much time with my family as I would like. But if you review, I might make an exception. Thanks, guys!**

 **~ "Crastinate**

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 **Merlin's POV**

Merlin watched as Akila let out a little puff of air through her mouth, her hair jumping slightly whenever she exhaled. Gwaine's snores where not as silent; a rumbling growl similar to a rockslide echoed in the tiny space, successfully blocking out any other noises. Arthur was crouched in the darkness, moonbeams glittered in his hair, turning it a breathtaking silver. The only indication that he was awake were the two cerulean orbs blinking thoughtfully at the moon.

Merlin stretched his aching back against the wall across from Arthur, his calm navy blue orbs hiding his true inner turmoil. His magic demanded attention, ready to spring into action to protect his King, the azure irises threatening to burn the familiar gold, the words of power on the tip of his tongue. Merlin struggled to reign in the shimmering lifeblood of the Earth that was so graciously given to him, it needed to be free, needed to be unrestricted, but above all, needed to protect Arthur. Merlin shifted against the wall again, taking in deep breaths to make his magic obey.

"What if we don't get out?" Arthur's words were so quiet that they were almost swept away in the sonic tidal wave of Gwaine's snoring. Merlin blinked in surprise. "We always make it out, we've been in situations worse than this before, Arthur." The King sighed slightly. "You heard Akila, she's been here for eight years, what if-" Arthur ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "No." interrupted Merlin, an edge in his voice. "Don't think like that. We _will_ make it out! Do you know why? Because we have you. You, King pratness, will get us out of here. I know it." Arthur looked up in surprise. "How can you have so much blind faith in me?" Merlin let out a laugh. The first genuine laugh of the day. "Because I know you. You won't give up until Gwen is by your side again." Merlin let out a cheeky smile. "Now, since they are starving us, you can work on your weight." Arthur lunged forward and cuffed him on the back of his head. "I'm not fat."

Merlin laughed and rubbed the back of his head. He let out a huge yawn. "Go to sleep, Merlin." said Arthur. "You don't have to stay up for me." How he managed to read Merlin's mind like that was a mystery. "Fine, but promise me you will sleep too." Arthur nodded slightly. Merlin cuddled up against the wall and closed his eyes.

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After a dreamless sleep, Merlin was awoken by a gentle tap on his shoulder. His eyes slowly peered open, and focused on the beautiful face of Akila. In the full light, her dark boysenberry eyes seemed a more somber amethyst, but even in the daylight her face was dismal and sorrowful. "Merlin, you must wake." Akila's musical voice whispered in his ear. Merlin stretched slowly. Looking past her shoulder, he saw Arthur and Gwaine brushing off the dusty remnants of the night. Merlin stood and glanced at the door. Akila followed his gaze. "They'll be here in a second." As if on cue, the key loudly sounded at the door, and as it swung open, the groaning metal revealed Falgrid himself. "Ah, the King is awake!" His lip curled back revealing his rotten black teeth. "This way." His guards reached through the door and yanked the three men out the cell door. "What about Akila?" asked Gwaine. Falgrid sneered at him. "You'll see her later." The door groaned shut behind them, hiding Akila from view.

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Merlin let out a string of curses as he failed to move the stubborn slab of cobblestone, which absolutely refused to budge. Multiple insults were whispered out loud, earning him a apprehensive glance from Elyan, who along with Leon and Percival, were reunited with Merlin, Arthur and Gwaine. All six men were slaving away in the courtyard, though the knights were having more luck than the scrawny manservant at carrying the enormous blocks of stone, even Gwaine was having more luck, and he had a cracked rib! Merlin was so tempted to change the mass of the stone with his magic, but in this exposed, stony plain, it would be extremely risky to use his magic and hide the brightness of his golden stare. With that in mind, Merlin groaned and finally hoisted the stone on his aching shoulders and shoved it in place with a grunt.

A strangled yelp interrupted Merlin's train of thought. He spun around and what he saw made his mouth twitch in horror. An old man, around Giaus's age, was crouching on the dirty floor in a foetal position, trying to shield himself from the burly jailer who was mercilessly beating him with a knobbly club. The man's cried echoed around the stone courtyard. Merlin glanced at his lined face, it was twisted in pain. Silent tears trickled down his face like ribbons of silver pearls. The transparent liquids reflected the midday light, starkly contrasting against his his dark tanned skin. Merlin rushed forward to help, but Arthur was always the faster runner.

The enraged King let out a bellow and charged at the ruthless assaulter. "Enough!" Arthur's broad, muscled shoulder rammed into the man's torso, earning him a satisfying crunch. Merlin watched as Arthur's opponent picked himself of the floor, the old man had crawled a safe distance away and was now watching with eyes that betrayed his fear. The jailer cracked his muscles menacingly as the other jailers formed a circle around the two. "You're in for it now, Pendragon!"

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 **AN: Please review!**


	5. Dinner Entertainment

**AN: Hey everybody, another chapter! I wont be posting as fast as normal, school work is catching up with me. I'll still post at least once every week, though. This chapter is the longest so far. Hope you like it! Review please!**

 **~ 'Crastinate**

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 **Arthur's POV**

Arthur's senses tingled, his eyesight sharpened as adrenaline surged through his body, rippling under the surface like a snake, coiling in on itself, ready to spring forth and unleash it's fury on it's insignificant prey. Unfortunately, the young King was outrageously outnumbered.

At least 20 of Falgrid's men raised their various weapons, designed to create and enhance pain. They circled him like the revolting vultures that they are, eyes glinting maliciously. Then, with out warning, the man that stood directly behind Arthur attacked. _'A coward's move.'_ thought Arthur, as he dodged the mace that swung at his unaware back. He let out a snarl of anger. The other men closed in.

Fists flew like ravenous birds, punching and slapping and hitting and _hurting_ Arthur. It hurt. One particularly painful blow to the throat sent Arthur staggering, and he let out a choked whimper. A _whimper!_ Arthur Pendragon does not _whimper!_ The pain raged through Arthur's beaten body, sending shockwaves of fire rippling through his limbs.

The familiar coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, overwhelming Arthur's abused throat. He spat out the thick liquid onto the floor, staining the cobbles a stark crimson colour, splattering on the stone in a unrecognisable pattern. _They had made him bleed. They had made him whimper. They had taken all dignity and pride from him. He had lost. They had beaten him._

Those were Arthur's last thoughts as he lost consciousness. He sank gratefully into the deep blackness where his pride and wounds had no affect on his bruised soul.

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"Look how far you've fallen, Pendragon."

Arthur blinked wearily. Blue eyes scrunched in pain. Blood and sweat mingled on his normally flushed skin. Everything ached and yelled for his attention. He became aware that he was tied to a chair, hand tied roughly and securely behind his back. Arthur blinked again, his vision foggy and disoriented. After a few more seconds of blurriness, Arthur's vision finally cleared, revealing Falgrid's greasy face.

When Falgrid noticed that Arthur was aware of his surroundings, he smiled evilly, the scar on his face rippling and crinkling to match the contours of his face. He leaned forward until he was mere inches away from the blond's face.

"You should be proud, Pendragon. The rumours are true; it really does take twenty five men to bring you down." The black toothed smile was even worse up close. The rotting teeth were accompanied by foul breath that could stun a dragon. The overwhelming smell of old meat and cheap wine made bile rise up in Arthur's bruised throat. But instead, Arthur remained silent and still.

Falgrid pulled back, still grinning, and Arthur realised they were in some sort of dining hall. But the table was on a raised platform, and the floor was littered with bones and blood. The room was lit by twice as many torches as the entire dungeon. On the table, Arthur could nearly make out what appeared to be a brutally carved wooden table. An entire feast was laid out on the surface like a magnificent carpet, the cutlery glinting in the torchlight. He could smell it too, he wasn't sure if it smelled fresh or not, but he was too hungry to care.

What Falgrid said next made Arthur's head snap up in attention. "I wish to invite you to dinner." The blue eyes of Camelot's King narrowed in suspicion. "Dinner?" he croaked. Falgrid's smile seemed to be permanent as it never wavered even in the slightest, even when the king's voice cracked so obviously. The amber pendant pulsing with a waxen light. "Of course, after all I am entertaining royalty. You will be untied; you must forgive me, the bonds were necessary if you had tried to escape." Arthur felt the thick rope around his wrists loosen then drop as he once again spoke up. "What if I try to run now?" Falgrid's inky black eyes seemed to glow with added hostility. "Then your stick of a manservant will pay the price." Arthur stood up sharply. They would not touch him; Merlin was off limits. "Absolutely not." he said, with all the kingly emphasis he could muster. "Then we have no problem. Do as we say and stay in line is all we ask." Falgrid led Arthur to the table. He placed himself in the centre, Arthur on his left, and Descar, who had suddenly popped into view (Arthur suspected he was the one to untie him), and took the seat on Falgrid's right hand side. "You will love our entertainment, my Lord, we are quite proud of our selection for you tonight!" goaded the vile creature who sat at the head of the table.

Falgrid waved his hand and Descar bellowed out a single command: "Begin!" A large door swung open revealing ten girls, all dirty, all young, all beautiful, all terrified. They were wearing only a thin white dress that did nothing to hide their skinny forms. Arthur's eyes widened in horror; _this_ was the entertainment?! _This was disgusting._ he thought inwardly. _I must stoop this._ But another voice, slightly more selfish, remind the king about what would happen to Merlin if he spoke now. _They'll hurt him…_ It whispered. Arthur growled in frustration and fear. Falgrid seemed to be enjoying the inner turmoil he saw in the baby blue eyes. In a loud voice that jolted Arthur out of his trance, he declared: "The bidding had begun! Who will agree to work two more hours for the little one on the left?" Arthur watched with wide eyes as the bidding for the virginity of ten young girls took place right under his very nose. Arthur realised the men were paying with the only thing they had: work hours. The girls all stared at their feet, as one by one, the line got shorter and shorter. None of the maidens even glanced at Arthur, except for the last one. This girl was no older that fifteen, and she had beautiful dark hazel brown eyes, eyes like Guinevere. Arthur tried to convey everything he had: his regret, his fear, his sorrow, his anger, everything, into a look he sent her with his deep blue eyes. She seemed to understand because she sent him a forgiving smile as she was led away by four men twice her size.

Once the bidding was finished, the remaining guards opened the door once more to let in the men. Hundreds of them crowded the large space, but instead of filling the room like Arthur had expected, the stuck as close as possible to the sides of the oval shaped chamber and as far away from the doorway as they could possibly be. Arthur suddenly saw a group familiar faces, the knights had Merlin in the centre of a tight circle for protection so Arthur could only see the top of his head, but the wary faces of his knights were enough reason to be apprehensive.

Falgrid stood and began what seemed like a welcoming speech. "Men, what a glorious night we have planned for your entertainment after a long day of hard work. But as all of you already know, we have special guests: King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table! We have upped our game tonight, boys, and things are going to get interesting! But first-" Arthur stood abruptly. All eyes snapped the the furious king, his eyes ablaze with hatred and rage. The knights had shifted their tight formation around his manservant, revealing his face, and a large bruise that seemed so out of place on his very prominent right cheekbone. "My Lord, what is the matter?" asked Falgrid angrily, very unamused that he was interrupted. Arthur turned his fiery gaze on him. The man couldn't help but be surprised at the amount of fury the king's blue orbs contained. "Your men beat my frie-manservant." Arthur spoke in only a whisper but the whole room seemed to hear the bubbling anger beneath the quiet volume and notice the subtle slip-up. Merlin's eyes were wide as saucers. He hadn't expected such a reaction from Arthur.

Falgrid looked back and forth between the outraged king and the manservant before bursting into loud raucous laughter, pendant swinging like a ship on a wrathful ocean. Descar and the men followed immediately after, joining Falgrid's rough baritone with fifty others just like it. Falgrid stood, wiping tears of laughter from his onyx eyes. "And what do you expect to do about that? If you try anything, I will kill him _and_ your knights!" Arthur growled audibly. "Don't threaten my friends." He didn't even try to correct himself. Because that is what they are: his friends. Falgrid snorted and patted Arthur on his back. "Sit, Pendragon, the entertainment is starting." Arthur was forcefully shoved back into his chair, knocking the table slightly, making the cutlery and goblets wobble. Falgrid straightened himself and halted his swaying medallion.

"Now, hopefully without anymore interruptions-' he sent a pointed glare at Arthur. "-we can continue our evening. You see my Lord we have a tradition: we would choose one man to fight our champion every night. If they win, they go free. If they loose, they die. Simple, right?But for tonight - just for tonight - we will allow the looser to live. First to draw blood will win." At this new revelation the men started to raise their hands and their voices to volunteer. "SILENCE!" bellowed Descar. The order effectively quietened the room. "Thank you, Descar." said Falgrid calmly. "But the only challenger tonight will be the King of Camelot. We will see if he is truly the best swordsman in the land." Falgrid's guards cheered noisily.

"And now," continued Falgrid. He grandly gestured to the darkened doorway, where a small, lithe figure stood silhouetted against the full moon. "Please welcome my leading champion for eight consecutive years; the Angel of Death; the Lady of the Blade; the Swords-woman… Akila!"

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 **AN: O.o Ta Da! Review please!**


	6. First Blood

**AN: Hey guys, how are ya? Well here's another chapter for ya, please leave a review, I love them! Favouriting and following are welcome too! Enjoy!**

 **~ 'Crastinate**

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 **Gwaine's POV**

"Please welcome my leading champion for eight consecutive years; the Angel of Death; the Lady of the Blade; the Swords-woman… Akila!"

The words echoed in Gwaine's stunned mind. Nothing made sense… _Akila_ was Falgrid's champion? Her haunted eyes suddenly came to his mind, the deep, twisted emotion now recognises as guilt. For every night of eight years, Akila took another life. She was a killer, a fighter, a _monster_!

Arthur's clear voice brought him back to the shocking scene in front of him. "I will not fight her." Falgrid simply responded by raising his hand. Ten of the guards raced towards the little group of knights, sword and maces swinging. Percival let out a roar of anger when a thug took a vicious swing at Elyan's unsuspecting back. Gwaine leapt into action and swung a heavy punch at the offending man's ugly face. He spun around at Leon's shout of pain. The eldest knight had been surprised by a quick blow to the temple and now as the blood dripped steadily down the side of his gaunt face, a crooked dagger found it way into his muscled bicep.

Arthur shouted over the angry din. "STOP! I'll fight, I'll fight." Falgrid smirked and raised a hand. Immediately, the masses of guards ceased their clamouring and stilled their swords. Descar handed the king a heavy black sword. Arthur bore it without complaint and did an impressive leap off the raised platform. He landed in a perfect fighting stance, his eyes ablaze with focus and concentration.

The thin figure in the door way strode forward, the torchlight flaring on her pale face, eyes as dark as an indigo night glistened behind the unkempt hair that hung in the braids that Gwaine once found attractive. Akila wore the same clothes as before, but only this time, she wore two straps of leather across her chest and back, in which held twin daggers that glinted ominously as she drew them from the sheaths on her back. Long swords as thin and deadly as their owner hung unattended on her belt.

Arthur and Akila began to circle each other, Arthur's eyes conflicted and studying his opponent. But Akila strode uncaringly in a loose circle, her stance relaxed. She wasn't even trying to _look_ at Arthur.

Gwaine's heart thumped in his chest. His king was about to go against an opponent that managed to completely catch them off guard, someone who had deceived them without thought. Gwaine didn't even know her that well and her betrayal was like a fierce punch to the gut.

Arthur lunged Akila, his sword raided high, Camelot's battle cry echoed throughout the oval chamber. "For Camelot!" Akila merely took off towards the wall. Gwaine blinked and Arthur slowed his pace in surprise. Time seemed to slow as Akila launched herself at the stone wall, and with her own battle cry, did a spectacular summersault off the wall, her back arched like a half moon as she sailed straight over Arthur's still raised sword and landed directly behind the blond. Gwaine gasped as Akila slashed the dagger at Arthur's calfs, which he only deflected thanks to his quick reflexes, Gwaine had never seen such agility. Only Arthur's strength managed to counter her swift attacks.

Akila flipped the daggers in her palm until the blades pointed downwards, like fangs. She pirouetted towards Arthur, a deadly blur of white and brown. Arthur simply kicked her legs out from under her, making her drop her weapons in order to get her balance, but instead of falling flat on her face like Gwaine expected, she fell backwards and hand-springed out of the way.

Now weaponless, Akila bared her teeth in a snarl, looking strangely animal-like. She drew her two swords, crudely shaped iron blades with what looked like human bones as handles, which were wrapped in black leather for better grip. Arthur charged at her straight on, and feigned an attack on her left, but she kicked at his head. They danced around the room, graceful as a waltz, trading slices and thrusts that their opponent only very narrowly dodged.

Akila sent a spinning kick at Arthur's sword hand. Arthur recovered, but only just in time to block a jab to the gut that would have taken his life. Gwaine winced as she slashed at Arthur's now exposed back, leaving a thin trail of crimson down his white shirt. The fight was over; first blood had been drawn.

Silence echoed loudly in the crowded room. Then… "HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Falgrid's unbridled laugh shocked Gwaine out of his thoughts. "The greatest swordsman in the land has fallen to my champion!" The guards and Descar added their voices to the din. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The chorus of guffawing rattled around Gwaine's reeling mind. He glanced beside him. Leon too stood stock still as he watched Akila stand, not even winded from the fight. Gwaine noticed that all the knights as Merlin had been watching with something akin to wonder as Akila retrieved and sheathed her weapons and sent a deep bow at the platform.

Falgrid stood and smiled. "Akila, my darling. Come to me." His finger curled in a beckoning gesture like a claw. The young woman nodded and walked up to the table. No emotion was shown. Stoic as a grave, she stood beside her master and stared at the grime-covered wall opposite her. "My dear, you have done me proud." said Falgrid his fingers threading through her hair. The only reaction he got was a very slight flinch, Gwaine was sure only he noticed as she hid it well.

Arthur stood on shaky legs. "I have fought you champion. What now?" Falgrid waved a careless hand. "You go back to your cell, have your friends patch you up, get back to work tomorrow." Arthur frowned and glanced briefly at Akila. "What of her?" For the first time that night, Akila spoke. "I will also return to the cell. I will rest for tomorrow's battle." Falgrid patted her shoulder in a parental way. "Yes, yes. Now, all of you, back to your cells. Dinner is ready."

There was a clamour as all the prisoners hurried in the direction of the dungeon, the guards shouting and herding them into a line. Akila walked briskly to join the line. Gwaine sighed and went to join Arthur as he too went to join the endless stream of men.

The knight glanced at the back of his king, trying to see how much damage was done. To his surprise, Gwaine realised that it was a shallow cut, just deep enough to draw blood. He guessed the part of the Princess that hurt the most was his pride.

A hand on his arm made him turn. Gwaine saw the same relief that Arthur was not harmed too badly in Merlin's deep cerulean eyes. The three of them made their was back to their cell as the other knights stood behind them protectively.

When they reached their disgusting abode, Akila was already crouched in the corner holding a plate of moulding bread. Merlin retrieved the three other plates and handed them to the other men. They hungrily ate their food, uncaring of the flavour. Arthur's injury needed no stitches, it was as harmless as a large paper cut.

After they had practically licked their plates clean, Gwaine spun on his heel and glared at the corner where Akila sat half-hidden by a blanket of shadows. What came out of his mouth next shocked both Merlin and Arthur at the uncharacteristic way the words flew at a defenceless Akila like arrows.

* * *

 **AN: Please review!**

 **~ 'Crastinate**


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